


Black Silk

by bandishYK



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blowjobs, Bottom!Elijah, Canon divergence or possible AU, Deviation, M/M, Pool Sex, Top!Connor, can work either way really, consentual, everyone has a good time tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:57:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15325233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bandishYK/pseuds/bandishYK
Summary: Canon or possible AU in which Kamski has his own Connor model.Involves aesthetics inspired from Bryan Dechart's outfit in "Dreams From A Petrified Head."





	Black Silk

Early morning light shines in through wide glass windows. The sun reflects harshly off a fresh layer of snow from the night before, making a bright halo settle along the horizon between the pale blue above and the expanding distance below. The house comes alive with noise as androids boot up out of sleep mode, exiting their small ports along the wall.

A set of three RT600 androids file out in a uniform line as they head off in various directions to complete their morning tasks.

Their eyes cool and serene, with gentle cheeks and quaintly attractive features. Elijah had developed the series himself, naming the model “Chloe,” something he found to be fitting of their apparent modesty and grace.

The room grows quiet again in their absence. The RK800 checks the time: 7:13 AM October 24th. 

He’s wearing his usual black silk robe, a garment Elijah had picked specifically for him, something thin and light, and somewhat comfortable, in an odd way. He moves from his standing position in the corner towards the vast window in front of him, looking out at some small brown birds twittering along the branches of an oak log poking out from underneath the white powder. A set of blue digits in the corner of his vision click. 7:14 AM.

He turns to a doorway on the left. His task this morning, as it has been every morning since he arrived here, is to awaken his directive, Elijah Kamski, at precisely 7:15 AM. His feet stick slightly to the tile as he paces toward the door, gently cracking it open. He slowly closes it behind him to block out any possible noise, leaving his LED the only light in the dark room, illuminating the space a dull blue.  
He walks toward the head of the bed, his hands pressing gently on the plush bedding as he goes along the edge. He stops in front of the sleeping figure, his stray fingers trailing up the sheets to Elijah’s shoulder. 

His hand moves up a little farther, brushing against Elijah’s exposed neck. Something in his chest squeezes, and he quickly retracts his hand, a flash of yellow coats the room in a gold before returning to its usual calm blue. 7:15 AM.

He moves his hand back to Elijah’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze that progressively gets stronger until Elijah’s eyes snap open with a sharp inhale.  
“Elijah, I'm here to-”

Suddenly an arm catches him around the neck and pulls him downward, making him stumble forward. His face is only a few inches away from Elijah’s. The room returns to its yellow glow as he stares into dark eyes.

A sleepy smile accompanies an intrigued whisper, “What are you really here for?”

The android freezes and his eyes widen. Elijah’s breath feels hot on his skin, his face feeling ticklish with the uneven sensation. He blinks twice, considering the question. “I'm here, as directed, to wake you. It is currently 7:16 AM.”

Elijah pauses for a moment, then sighs as he releases his hold around the android’s neck. “Right.”

The RK800 stumbles back a bit, regaining his balance, moving back towards the foot of the bed, putting some distance between him and Elijah.

Elijah motions to get out of bed, the wine colored sheets rolling off his knees down to the ground, creating a small pool of red waves against the tile. When Elijah’s feet touch the floor, sensors activate a set of dim white lights that run along the corners of the room, pointing upward to cast long shadows along the ceiling.

The light catches on his jaw and cheeks, leaving his face dark and hard to read. He reaches over to the nightstand as he stands, grabbing his glasses, pushing them up the bridge of his nose in what the android had identified to be a nervous tick. He is wearing nothing but a spandex pair of boxer briefs and a heavy silver watch.

Elijah groggily walks over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and snaps his fingers, prompting a large panel along the far wall to open up, revealing a wide window out to the snowy pasture, flooding the room with bright light.

The android's eyes adjust as he shifts his attention to Elijah’s hands, now pulling out a fluffy black robe, running his fingers along the polyfiber texture. He puts it on, loosely tying the band around his waist.

Elijah turns towards the door, yawning as he readjusts the collar. The RK800 remains still at the foot of the bed, awaiting his next command. As he reaches the doorway, the man turns back, the corners of his mouth shifting into an upturn as the bridge of his nose crinkles slightly, an expression the android had learned to be a sort of smirk, softer than the sort Elijah usually shot at particularly rude guests, but with all the same bite.

“Aren't you coming, Connor?”

His voice pitches up at the end, framing the clear command as a question. Connor averts his gaze before looking back up at Elijah, “Yes, Elijah.”

\---

They walk into the kitchen, a long room with a narrow metal island down the center, bordered by reflective white walls. Along the left side was something that resembled a bar, though the contents were mostly food related, storage and cooking mechanisms. An RT600 stands at attention with a plate of chopped vegetables and fruits, topped with a small melody of spices, a scan reveals oregano, paprika, white pepper, basil, yellow curry, iodized sea salt, calorie count 240, daily sodium 12%.

Elijah takes a seat along the right side of the counter, Connor comes to a halt, standing at attention 3 feet behind him, waiting for further command.  
The RT600 walks over, giving a placating smile as she places the plate in front of Elijah, then turns back to retrieve a cup of water from the bar. 

“You know Connor, it's a good thing you don't need to eat. It's so slow -- so inefficient. The human body is so limited, only able to go a few hours before needing to restock on fuel, on food, on water. Always in need of rest before any sort of innovation. Always so...needy.”

He takes a forkful of food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully. Connor tilts his head and listens, flexing his fingers with anticipation, waiting to see if he’ll continue. The RT600 returns with a glass of water and places it next to the plate before turning to go back to her station at the bar. Connor watches her closely until she returns to the other side of the room and stills. 

Connor then refocuses his gaze at Elijah, who had been staring at him, and who quickly breaks eye contact before returning to his meal. He says nothing more as the sounds of chewing buzz in Connor’s sensitive ears. Once he finishes, he places his fork down gently with a clank against the counter top. 

“How convenient it must be,” he says as he abruptly stands up to leave the kitchen.

He doesn't make any eye contact or give any signal to Connor, looking at the far wall as he briskly walks out. The RT600 smiles lightly when he meets her eyes.

Connor stands still, awaiting another command. He turns back toward the empty plate, then to the android across from him. He fidgets. He is uncomfortable. 

He doesn't like being here without his directive. And the presence of the other android in particular makes him...uneasy, for some reason. He would prefer she not be involved. She poses no threat however, so he decides not to expand on this seemingly unprompted discomfort.

He turns toward the door, his hands momentarily clenching involuntarily. Without prompt, he walks out of the room, following the sound of Elijah’s footsteps.

\---

A number of visitors come in to see Elijah, mostly business types inquiring about software modifications and an apparent current issue with a malfunctioning set of androids, referred to as “deviants.” Their tone towards Elijah is harsh, and makes Connor...uneasy. His upper lip twitches into a momentary snarl. Something foreign in him wants them to stop talking and leave, immediately. 

Elijah cuts in, giving them a fake smile, then saying deviations in the program were inevitable, and they would have to clean up their own mess. The suits make an array of disgruntled groans and sighs and make way to leave. Elijah rolls his eyes, catching Connor glowering at them, and flashes Connor a quick smile.

They leave with a loud slam of the door. Elijah sighs heavily after they've gone, picking up a small book and sitting back into the black entryway couch. He had changed into more formal dress since this morning, a white dress shirt tucked into fitted pants, still void of any shoes or socks. He had mentioned before to Connor that he hated the feeling of weight dragging his steps, though Connor doubted that it was a truthful admission, and it likely had more to do with the fact he never went out.

And after few a hours of reading, Elijah stirs to get up, still fixated on the book in hand. His eyes skim the last lines of the page and then he snaps it shut.

He looks up towards Connor, who had been standing at attention in the far corner of the room. “Time for my evening swim, isn't it?” His tired eyes squint slightly, crinkling at the corners, taking away the agitated edge the question usually held. He smiles lightly.

Connor feels something twist in his chest again, and runs a brief diagnostic. All systems functioning at optimal capacity. His eyes refocus as shifts his gaze back to Elijah, “Y-yes.”

He wanders out to the pool room, with all three RT600 models lined up against the far wall, outlined by the light emanating from the the glass panels behind them, hands folded against their stomachs in a stiffly polite position. He glances back at Connor, who is following close behind, and comes to a stop a few feet into the room. Connor stumbles a bit on his last step to avoid a collision. Elijah turns his attention towards the other models.

“Complete command number 317 outside, then return to your port stations for rest.”  
The other androids stir into immediate motion and shuffle off in various directions. Directive 317 involves basic upkeep on the outdoor areas along with a full self diagnostic and data sync with Elijah’s personal server, a process projected to take no less than 78 minutes.

As the last of them exits the room, Connor feels a sudden sense of relief.

Elijah turns back to Connor, folding his arms behind his back and executing a half-grin, upticking the right corner of his mouth. When compared to past analysis, Connor deduces that he seems to look...pleased. Connor blinks at him, confused by his seemingly random shift in attention.

After a few moments, Elijah’s eyebrows knit together, “Well?”

Connor blinks again, he doesn't understand what Elijah is referring to. His mouth twitches and he shifts his weight uncomfortably under a questioning stare. “Well...what?”  
Elijah pauses, pursing his lips in a displeased gesture. He turns his whole body toward Connor and takes a step forward, his face now only only inches away. They're the same height, but his head is tilted down, so his eyes peek up at Connor beneath a heavy brow and long eyelashes.

“We’re alone now. Isn't that what you wanted?”

Connor doesn't understand the accusation. “I'm a machine, I'm not designed to want anything. I'm simply here to assist you as instructed, Elijah.”

“Yes, you seem to think so. But tell me,” Elijah inches closer, his lips hovering beside Connor’s ear, “Is that all you want from me?” He curls his arms around Connor’s waist, lightly embracing his stiff form. Connor’s eyes flutter shut. A number of warning signs clog his vision, flashing against the black sheet of his eyelids: elevated pressure in his primary thorium pump, and a myriad of other abnormalities detected throughout his system. 

“I…” his hands twitch.

“I want…” He feels a pulse ripple through his body, all the warning tabs closing as his mind focuses on one choice, one new directive, in a moment of almost alien clarity. 

“I want...you...alone, here, with me.” His arms come up to squeeze around Elijah, pulling him closer as his face nuzzles against the man’s neck. A faint red glow looming in his peripheral.

After a moment too long to fathom, yet too short to count, Elijah speaks. “That's what I want too,” he whispers, tilting his head to look at Connor’s face. He slowly pulls out of the embrace and moves a few steps back, catching a hold of the android’s hand. Shifting backward toward the edge of the pool. 

“Come.”

It comes out a husky whisper, a beseeching request more than a command, his eyes dark with passion. Connor feels a chill wriggle down his body. He follows Elijah’s movements closely, amiable and eager to see his every move.

Elijah steps down into the water, red soaking up into his clothes with each step deeper, soggy fabric clinging to his legs and waist. Connor follows, black silk weighing heavy as it becomes saturated. They stop as the water line rests just above their waists.

He has an urge to touch, and reaches up to Elijah's neck with his free hand, water trickling from his fingertips.  
His skin is smooth, and water droplets bead down, leaving crimson trails along his collar, Connor watches them as they flow along the forms of the fabric, seeping in to give the cloth a pink transparency. Elijah’s breath catches in his throat. And Connor’s fingers dig in slightly, pressing into hot flesh. Elijah hums in an approving tone. “I want to...touch you more, please,” Connor gives his best puppy dog expression and quivers his voice at the end, eyes searching for affirmation.

Elijah pulls his arm back, grinding his lower half forward against Connor with a small splash. “Please, be my guest.”  
Connor’s mind goes blank as his hands rush up to Elijah’s collar, pulling it open with enough force to send the top three buttons flying off. He presses his face against the exposed patch of skin, pushing his tongue against the sharp edge of his collarbone.

A rush of biological information flashes before Connor’s eyes as his tongue presses the soft skin, more than anything wants to taste it all, know all of Elijah’s body, from head to toe, compile every inch. Elijah moans, and his hips buck forward, his hands grabbing at Connor’s shoulders to steady himself.

Connor licks along his chest, paying special attention to areas that seem to elicit particularly strong responses. Elijah’s eyes fall closed, his face tight in concentration, biting at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. A bead of red trailing down his chin.

Connor moves his attention up to Elijah’s face, his tongue tracing the glistening red line up to its source before snaking its way into a pliant mouth. He scrapes along the roof of his mouth, hungry for information and contact. A broken noise comes up from Elijah’s throat as his entire body quivers. A twitching erection pulses against Connor’s hip through tight, waterlogged fabric.

Connor suddenly stops his internal exploration and pulls his face back, looking into Elijah’s half-lidded eyes. He reaches a hand down into the water, pressing it against the hardness. Elijah’s hips spasm at the sudden contact.

“Can I touch you here?” He emphasizes the ‘here’ with a light squeeze. Elijah lets out a low breathy groan as he nods his head loosely, unable to keep Connor’s gaze. “Ngh...yeah. Ah, f-fuck.”  
Connor nods back and ducks down into the water, yanking down Elijah’s pants and briefs to release the straining cock inside. Connor doesn’t need to breath, and stares at it for a moment through the rippling watery haze, processing how he should proceed. He parts his lips, taking the tip into his mouth. It's soft, softer than he would have expected.

Above the water he can hear Elijah moaning while vibrations trickle down his body and into his unsteady legs. The water makes everything feel incredibly quiet, isolated, but amplified, like a rose-tinted border between them and the outside world. He wants more.

His LED spins yellow as he carefully takes the full length into his mouth, tasting the salt and sweet water as his tongue glides along the member. His hands grip at Elijah’s thighs, enjoying the way they flex and shiver with each movement he makes. He moves his head rhythmically as Elijah’s cock slides in and out of his mouth, using his grip to hold his hips in place.

Connor loves the feeling of something so personal and hidden being so close to him, being in him, being his. The feeling of control over Elijah’s responses as he shifts his pace. The ability to fulfill impulses usually ignored and forgotten.

But soon Elijah’s movements become desperate and sporadic, as he pushes harder against Connor’s hands. Connor picks up the pace, understanding the need for urgency. He bobs his head rapidly until a spray of hot liquid hits the back of his throat.

It's only once he feels Elijah’s heart rate begin to drop back down to normal that he slowly pulls off his cock, bringing his head back up above water.

He stares into Elijah’s bloodshot eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching up, “I do hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, Elijah.”

Elijah, looking so incredibly wrecked and wrung out, lets out a shaky laugh, “Yes. I do believe I did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Should be done in 2 chapters, but we'll see. But it's my first fic, and I would love some feedback <3  
> (PS I also love Hankcon so this is written to allow for it to co-exist in canon. Hopefully I'll write some hankcon in future if people enjoy?)


End file.
